


One-shot and Prompt Fill Collection

by Energy_Purple



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Canon-Typical Violence, Dom/sub, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Kayfabe Compliant, Literally all the things, M/M, Multi, Prompt Fic, Requests, Smut, Suggestions, prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2018-12-22 16:42:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11971437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Energy_Purple/pseuds/Energy_Purple
Summary: A collection of completed one-shot and random requested fics, as chosen by you readers!New request is up, check back for new pairings and prompts every couple of weeks! (Depending on how bad work gets!)Chapter 1: AJ Styles/Heath Slater - Love/hate relationshipChapter 2: Dean Ambrose/Roman Reigns - "Why can't you just hate me?"





	1. AJ Styles/Heath Slater - Love/Hate Relationship

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> So, unfortunately my original prompt and fic fantasy post was removed, but since I've already begun to make a start on the original prompts given to me, you will find them all in this collection of fics!
> 
> If you would like me to fulfil a prompt or fic fantasy request, then just drop me a message! I will attempt any and all pairings that people give me, although of course I will generally prioritise pairings I'm more comfortable with (i.e. Ambreigns, Breezango, Sami/Finn just to give a couple of examples)

**Pairing** : AJ Styles/Heath Slater (Requested by SakuraHijiri)

 **Prompt** : "Hey, not sure if you want to write this pairing, but I'd like to read some Heath Slater/AJ Styles love-hate stuff.

Game Night is back and in the 360° video Heath throws a ball at AJ and AJ throws it back and Heath then says, "We have a love-hate relationship." (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z0LjYwtbOW4 - 5:30 - 6:10)

Doesn't need to be smut. But if there is sex, please don't make it too rough for my Heathy baby. :D (no actual hate sex)"

 

So, first time ever writing this pairing (Or either of these guys in general!), so I hope that this is okay! First fic in over a year, so let me know what you guys think!

 

* * *

 

 

“GAME NIGHT SEASON THREE BABY, YEAH!”

AJ smirked, his cap pulled down low over his eyes as he rested his head in his hands, staring at the ceiling.

Heath’s level of enthusiasm was ridiculous. He was worse than a toddler, or one of those big slobbery dogs that shook themselves dry after a bath and then drooled all over your sneakers. Irritating as all hell, but in a somewhat kinda cute way.

“Hey, Phenomenal One, they wanna see you!”

AJ let out a rush of air as Heath threw a basketball at him, hitting him square in the lower abdomen.

Scratch that, AJ thought as he pushed himself off the ground, just irritating as all hell.

Nothing cute about the overgrown man-child. Nothing at all adorable about that thick southern drawl, the scruff of a beard framing Heath’s throat rather pleasingly, or those lithe limbs that cut through the air with a surprising strength…

AJ swallowed rather thickly, that lick of heat and frustration flickering through him as he watched Heath and Kofi dance for the camera, Heath’s hand grabbing and slapping playfully at Kofi’s basketball-enhanced backside.

And the worst thing was, AJ thought as Heath caught his eye and winked, is that Heath goddamn knew the effect he was having on the phenomenal one.

To say that the two had a bit of a love-hate relationship would be an understatement; hell, the only reason AJ ever agreed to do these stupid Game Night challenges was because it was the only real opportunity he had to see Heath, get under his skin a bit and prove to that wannabe hick that AJ Styles would always be better than him.

Stalking over towards the camera, AJ picked up a stray basketball from the floor, waiting until Heath’s eyes were locked on his before throwing it back at the red head with a surprising amount of vitriol. That smirk crossed back over AJ’s lips as he watched Heath fumble, those lithe limbs tripping over themselves as Heath stumbled over his words.

“We...uh…we have a love-hate relationship…”

Heath, to his credit, had realised this fairly early in their association with each other; AJ got a chance to let his competitive side run wild, and Heath got the chance to ogle and admire. It was safe. It was harmless. It didn’t matter that Bayley and Kofi and Tyler and Naomi and anyone else with a working set of eyes was aware of Heath’s… infatuation. It didn’t matter that they teased and probed, Heath’s pale skin flushing a rather fetching shade of pink whenever they whispered something probably _very_ un-PG in his ear.

As he said, it was safe and harmless fun, a way to blow off a little bit of steam and get his ego stroked at the same time.

If AJ found himself becoming slightly less unaffected every single time this happened, then well, that was just his business and no-one else’s. If AJ found himself beginning to love and hate Heath’s attention in equal measures every single time they were in the same goddamn zip code, then again, no-one needed to know.

The sound of Bayley’s obnoxious squeaking and whistling around the court suddenly brought him out of his thoughts, and he blinked rapidly when he realised that Game Night had already started. Heath was strangely quiet, his eyes occasionally flicking towards AJ as he tried to focus on calling the action and keeping score.

AJ crossed his arms loosely across his chest, sticking out his chin slightly. To anyone else, it would have just looked like AJ being AJ – arrogant, assertive, daring someone to step up to him. It was just how he carried himself, whether he was laughing at a joke or threatening to break someone’s face.

But AJ _knew_. And so did _Heath_.

AJ’s turn was up, and he rolled out his shoulders, relaxing into an almost sleek, predatory stride. When he realised though that Heath wasn’t actually looking at him, but had fixed his gaze on the wall just beyond AJ’s shoulder, AJ couldn’t help the ripple of heat that shuddered through him.

Heath was being so much more annoying than usual; throwing off mixed messages, the non-staring, the quietness. Usually by now Heath would have devolved into his usual flirty self, his outright ogling of AJ becoming more and more brazen, Bayley and Kofi nudging and laughing at Heath’s poor confusion…

Simply put, AJ wasn’t a man who appreciated having the script changed.

Heath nodded absently, rolling the ball stand into place.

“3, 2, 1… GO!”

AJ went to grab the edge of the rack. His fingertips brushed firmly against Heath’s. For a split second, their eyes both met, AJ’s skin buzzing with tension and electricity.

“Come on AJ!”

Naomi’s shout immediately burst the weird bubble that AJ and Heath had found themselves in, reality forcing itself in like a an old video film disintegrating, and AJ hissed in a breath before throwing himself into the challenge.

About half way through his time, he could see Heath appear in his periphery as he sank another basket. He could feel the warmth of Heath’s body right behind him.

_“What is that?”_

_“I thought you were phenomenal?”_

_“My grandma could do better than that!”_

AJ bit down hard on his bottom lip. The mocking tone, fiercer than usual, sharpened Heath’s normally lilting brogue.

And goddamn, but AJ couldn’t deny that the sudden burst of anger and heat coming from Heath made his knees buckle just a tiny bit.

This was different. New. A very interesting development in their little dance.

A devilish grin pulled at AJ’s features, his eyes glistening with frustration and irritation and something dark as he heard the whistle blow. He let out a roar of victory as he grabbed the bottom of his shirt, exposing his abdomen and the carved vee of his hips as he spun into Heath’s personal space.

Heath’s gaze was firmly fixed on bare skin. Even after AJ had pulled his shirt back down, AJ could feel Heath’s stare on his stomach as he was corralled before the camera.

Heath was rattling through his usual spiel, his arm slung around AJ’s shoulders as he talked up the rest of the season. Heath’s hand slapped against AJ’s pec, and AJ could feel Heath’s fingertips briefly digging into the solid muscle there before he reluctantly dropped it.

The camera finally shut down, the tension in the air thickened as Heath turned to start picking up stray basketballs. The others had disappeared, conspicuous in their absence.

AJ could feel his blood humming in his ears, his fingers itching to touch… what? He wasn’t entirely sure. It seemed however, that he didn’t need much time to figure out what.

Walking over towards Heath, AJ grabbed his shoulder tight and spun the younger man round. Before Heath even had the chance to question what AJ was doing, AJ surged forward and claimed Heath’s lips in a hungry kiss.

The sound of dropped basketballs echoed around the arena as Heath’s hands immediately found the curve of AJ’s hips through his shorts, a soft squeak of shock being swallowed by AJ’s talented mouth. AJ’s tongue traced along Heath’s full bottom lip, asking for entrance that Heath instantly granted. What AJ had thought would be a somewhat submissive and reluctant kiss was anything but as Heath tightened his grip, pulling the smaller man into him. AJ could feel the hesitant stutter of Heath’s hips against his, his moans hanging heavy in the air between them as he physically begged for more.

As nice as this was though – and it was _very_ nice indeed – AJ sucked Heath’s bottom lip between his teeth, softly bruising the sensitive skin as he pulled away, a smirk on AJ’s face as softly wiped the tip of his thumb across his own spit slicked and kiss swollen mouth. Heath looked confused, his cheeks flushed a ruby red and his breath coming out in harsh pants as AJ neatened up his shirt and pulled his cap back straight before taking a few steps back.

“So, next time then?”

The conflicted rush of anger, lust, and bemused realisation on Heath’s face was just as satisfying as any kiss they could have shared.

“Til then, I guess…”

AJ gave Heath an ominous wink before heading out of the arena. As he passed through the door, he paused, smiling softly when he heard the hard thud of basketballs hitting the wall.

“GOD FUCKING DAMN IT AJ STYLES!”

Yeah, you could say they had a love-hate relationship.

And AJ enjoyed every minute of it.


	2. Chapter 2: Dean Ambrose/Roman Reigns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I am SO sorry for how long it's taken me to write anything! I've just started a teacher training course and I kinda underestimated just how much work/how tired I would constantly be.
> 
> As a peace offering, please accept this random drabble I've been wanting to write for ages! A little bit of angsty Ambreigns with a fluffy ending!
> 
> I've already started writing the next prompt (Owens/Zayn tooth rotting fluff) so that will be with you all by the end of the week!
> 
> As always, if you have any prompts or ideas, feel free to comment/message me and I'll try to tackle it!
> 
> Enjoy guys!

Pairing: Dean Ambrose/Roman Reigns

Prompt: Some angsty hurt/comfort based (very loosely) off the song 'Hate Me' by Blue October (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dDxgSvJINlU)

* * *

 

“Why can’t you just hate me?”

Roman froze.

The question wasn’t a new one. He’d heard it hundreds of times: screamed at him in the heat of an argument, asked with a flippant sarcasm that belied the very real fear and non-existent self-belief that clung to Dean like a second skin…

The worst times was when it was whispered to him in the early hours, when Dean should’ve been asleep, when he should’ve been at some kind of peace.

When he always thought that Roman was asleep too. When he knew that Roman wouldn’t be able to respond. Dean had an extremely low limit to the amount of more affectionate gestures he could handle when he was in one of these kinds of headspace – hell, even normally when he would indulge Roman’s softness with a shy sort of contentment; Dean would vehemently deny it, but he really was a sucker for romance when the mood took him.

When he was stuck inside his own head though, his demons running rampant in the oppressive silence now that there was nothing to suppress them, it almost felt like there was nothing that Roman could do to stop the self-loathing, the hatred and neglect that would consume the younger man.

Some nights were worse than others.

Some nights, Dean would crave Roman’s warmth; Dean would curl up into his arms as though the steady beat of Roman’s heart in his ear could drive away the darkness, their bodies a tangle of limbs and silent desperation for something _real_.

Some nights, Dean would pace the room, agitation and frustration so thick Roman could taste it as Dean scratched and clawed at his neck, his arms, tapping manically at his collarbone as Roman watched calmly from his constant perch on the end of their bed.

Some nights – not so much anymore though, Roman was extremely thankful for - Dean disappeared. When he reappeared, his entire body shaking and his eyes puffy and rimmed with tears, Roman would never say a word, stroking a reverent hand through Dean’s hair until he fell into a fitful sleep.

Nights like tonight though?

Yeah, _definitely_ worse.

Roman should’ve seen it coming; it had been a long day, with just enough things going wrong that it would start to chip away at anyone’s confidence, let alone someone like Dean who always felt things just a little bit more sharply, a little bit more deeply.

Dean’s match with Cesaro hadn’t gone to plan; the crowd had been dead all night, and the suffocating disinterest had definitely rattled Dean to the point that he missed a couple of spots – nothing too obvious, but enough to get to the younger man. Enough for some of the more particularly fussy and condescending agents backstage to pull him up on it and chew him out over what Roman thought were extremely insignificant and trivial issues.

Then there had been the argument with Seth about their upcoming storyline; Seth was a details guy, whereas Dean was much more relaxed and willing to let things flow naturally, which of course had led to Seth storming off with some choice words about laziness and professionalism and ‘ _how the fuck can people put up with you? Why does Roman put up with you?_ ’

_Why do you put up with me?_

_Why can’t you just hate me?_

Which of course, had led to now.

Dean had always been convinced that he didn’t deserve Roman. Roman knew that he would never say it to his face, but Dean would constantly tear himself down, attempt to sabotage his own happiness under the mistaken belief that he didn’t deserve it. He used to get drunk, pick fights, come back to Roman covered in bruises and throwing such poisonous words that Roman was worried it really would drive them apart. He was constantly at war with himself – scarred inside and out with reminders of his hate and despondency at life – to the point that Roman would was genuinely scared that Dean would burn out completely.

Dean just couldn’t understand why someone like Roman would tolerate him, let alone _love_ him.

He didn’t deserve love after all, he had been tainted by hate and abuse and neglect and pain. It was all Dean knew. It was easier for him to understand. He knew where he stood with _hate_.

Roman knew all of this. It would be so easy to hate Dean; most people did. But he loved Dean despite all of his chaos and darkness and barbed edges. Dean was _Dean_.

But that didn’t make it any easier for Roman to hear, his chest physically throbbing from the confusion and fear in Dean’s wavering whisper, his voice catching on soft, hiccupped sobs. Dean’s head came to lightly rest against the back of Roman’s neck, and Roman could feel the dampness there as Dean’s arms hugged around Roman’s waist tight.

“Why can’t you just hate me?”

Roman sighed gently, rolling over in Dean’s octopus like grip. Dean stilled, obviously not expecting Roman to still be awake, but that didn’t deter Roman as he cupped Dean’s cheek, rubbing away the fresh track of tears rolling down his face with the pad of his thumb.

Dean’s eyes were downcast, his bottom lip worried between his teeth. It was obvious that Dean was nervous; Dean’s fingers were tapping random staccato rhythms down Roman’s spine, and Roman couldn’t help but shiver at the sensation. Dean always had that effect on him.

“Why can’t I just hate you?”

Roman’s voice was rough with sleep, his gravelled honey tone thicker than usual as he leant his forehead against Dean’s. Dean was still avoiding his gaze as he shrugged his shoulders stiffly, but his hands tightened around Roman’s back, tangling their legs together.

“Because I love you.”

Dean immediately tensed, a rebuttal on its way, but Roman was faster, pressing an achingly tender kiss to Dean’s lips. It was feather light, the softest gasp being startled out of Dean; this was one of the gentlest kisses they had ever shared, their lips moulding together as Dean instantly pushed himself deeper into Roman’s arms.

There was nothing sexual about it, none of the usual heat and teasing. It couldn’t even really be classed as affectionate or romantic. It was a different type of intimacy, a balm for the mind and a promise for the soul.

After a few moments, Roman pulled back, a genuinely warm grin on his face as Dean’s eyes finally met his. He looked a state, his skin clammy and flushed red, his eyes rimmed with tears, his mouth swollen in the best way.

“Because I love you way too much to ever hate you, no matter what happens in that head of yours.”

The faintest shadow of a smile crossed Dean’s lips as he buried his face in the side of Roman’s throat; Roman wasn’t naïve enough to think that Dean’s thoughts would magically be changed, but the sense of calm radiating off the younger man was tangible.

Roman tightened his grip on Dean protectively.

He knew that this wouldn’t be the end of it. There’d be more nights. More self-loathing. More hate. More gentle words and even gentler touches. More promises.

As Dean’s breathing evened out, his entire body relaxing against Roman’s as he succumbed to his bone deep exhaustion, Roman let his own eyes slip shut.

One day, Dean would finally learn to stop hating.

But until then, Roman would just love him even more.


End file.
